Page 13 of The Serpent's Bride
Little was known of life on the island those thousands of years ago. Only that it was a time of tyranny, savage cruelty, and that only by combining forces had the humans and the vampires driven the fae underground and establishedsomemodicum of true order and civilization to the world.
The war had never truly ended, of course. And the fae had leaked out like mold, retaking the plains. The coin in his hand was a delicate piece. Covered in filigree on both sides in almost impossible detail that must have taken a master artisan to create.
Savages. But capable of such beautiful pieces of art. A shame they couldn’t be tamed.
“What do you think?” Raziel turned the coin around over on his fingers, flipping it over his knuckles. The largest moon, theone that had once been worshiped as the Father god, was just starting to rise over the tree line.
“Of?” Ivan sniffed.
“The girl, you dumb fuck.” He rolled his eyes. “What did youthinkI meant?”
Ivan shrugged. Sweet man. Good friend. But the intelligence of a brick. And, just like a brick, he was very useful for bashing people’s heads in. “Cute.”
Brief, but accurate. Monica was, contrary to his concerns, quite attractive. His body tightened in response to the memory of seeing her, standing there in her ill-fitting clothes and with her big, innocent, green eyes. Underneath the stupid patterned dress was a body that he couldn’t wait to have stretched out before him, taut, waiting—begging.
Her dark brown hair had hints of chestnut. And the way her eyes went just a little wide when she looked at him? The way she almost trembled when he drew near?
What a wonderful trinket. He would have so much fun breaking her, even if he suspected it would be far,fartoo easy. He wondered if he could shatter her in a night—have her licking his shoes and begging for his attention by the following dawn.
The thought made him shudder in anticipation. Picking up his wine glass of blood, he took a sip from it. Monica wouldn’t last long, either by design or necessity, sadly. He had no desire to turn her, and therefore once their honeymoon was over, he’d drink her dry.
But they could have fun together before then. He idly wondered if his siblings would try to get a piece of her before she was gone. Lana, most certainly. Mael, perhaps.
His thoughts turned back to Monica. Tasty little thing. But he had the sincere suspicion that she’d be disappointing. Like ordering a plate of food from an expensive menu only to find itwas a single floret of broccoli sitting in the middle of an empty plate.
All anticipation. No meat.
“I should wait until after the wedding to destroy her, I suppose.” He took another sip of the blood before setting the glass down with a clink. “Bad form to have a vacant-eyed bride at the altar.”
Ivan shrugged. “Doubt anybody would be shocked.”
“Perhaps. But I wouldn’t hear theendof it from Mother.” He sighed. “I’ll be a good boy and wait.”
Ivan snorted a single, incredulous laugh.
Raziel grinned. “I will! I promise.”
Adorable, innocent little Monica, sold to a monster.
Raziel’s last toy had been found walking the streets of the city, stark-raving mad, begging anyone to forgive him for his misdeeds. Begging to be punished. He’d wandered into a canal and that was the end of that.
Poor Oliver. But like all his partners, Oliver had been weak.
What Raziel needed was a challenge.
Kicking his feet up on the coffee table, he leaned his head back on the sofa, and shut his eyes. For now, he would dream of all the terrible and wonderful things he would do to Monica when she was his wife.
Though…maybe there was alittlefun to be had before the wedding.
Maybe just alittle.
FOUR
Nadi looked at herself in the bedroom mirror. Sarah, one of Raziel’s staff, had come by to drop off “proper clothes” and makeup for her. The woman barely made eye contact before leaving and shutting the door.
It was clear how little Monica meant to these people. And that was fine—if they paid her no attention, it would be easier to dismantle them from the inside. Leaning in, she touched up the deep red lipstick that had been brought for her. It came as no surprise that she was wearing his colors—black and red.
The dress was revealing, with a plunging neckline that made wearing undergarments impossible, and thin straps on the back criss-crossing down to the waistline. But it was hardly the most scandalous thing she’d ever worn in her life. Besides, fae in the Wild usually wandered around stark naked, anyway. She was used to nudity.
